


Scully's Journey 5: Once Burned

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-21
Updated: 2003-09-21
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: "Mulder, you just keep unfolding like a flower."





	Scully's Journey 5: Once Burned

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

Scully's Journey 5: Once Burned

## Scully's Journey 5: Once Burned

### by ML

01/19/03  
Title: Scully's Journey 5: Once Burned Author: ML  
Feedback: always welcome at above email addy Distribution: Yes to Ephemeral, Gossamer, but if you haven't archived my stories before, please drop me a line and let me know, and leave headers, etc. attached. I thank you! Spoilers: Fire  
Rating: PG 13 (language)  
Classification: Vignette  
Keywords: Scully POV  
Summary: "Mulder, you just keep unfolding like a flower." 

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. I am using them only for recreational purposes, I mean no infringement, I'm making no money. 

Author's notes: I realize it's been more than a year since I last wrote one of these, but it is part of a series. You can find the rest of them at my page on Kimpa's site: <http://www.kimpart.com/mlfic.html>

Many thanks to the citizens of Beyond the Sea, who gave me their opinions and encouragement freely. 

Even though this is part of a series, you can read it as a stand-alone. All it takes is a little knowledge of the episode "Fire." 

* * *

SJ5: Once Burned  
by ML 

I'm finding I still don't know all that much about my partner. 

That's not so surprising, really. We've only been working together a couple of months, and he's not really the chatty type. He's very focused on the work. He could be characterized as obsessive, though that's approaching a clinical evaluation that I'm not qualified to make. Others haven't been so circumspect. 

I've learned a few things in the past months. He eats sunflower seeds incessantly. He likes junk food, the greasier the better, which is pretty amazing considering what good shape he's in. He's a runner, at least when we're on a case -- he says it's how he thinks. He reads girlie magazines, though I sometimes think he does it to try and get a rise out of me. He loves bad puns and worse jokes. But other than these rather superficial things, not all that much more than when we were first partnered. 

I didn't have much time to check him out before my assignment began, and afterward it seemed pointless. I couldn't make Fox Mulder like me, respect me, or trust me. And by same token, he couldn't expect my instant trust or respect either. 

To my surprise, he began to earn it on our very first case together. He was prickly and sarcastic, but when I came to him in fear, he took me seriously. And even when my fears proved unfounded, he didn't ridicule me. Another male agent in that situation no doubt would have, or worse, might have made a pass at me. Certainly Tom Colton in that situation would have spread it all over the Bureau by the next day. But I've never heard a whisper about it. 

I think I earned some of Mulder's trust as well that night. I saw a part of him that I suspect very few have ever seen. I knew then that I hadn't made a mistake in agreeing to this assignment. 

Since then, we've been settling into our partnership. We really do have each other's backs, as partners should. We have meaningful discussions about the work. He argues with me, but respects me. Still, we don't have the kind of relationship where we trade stories about how we spent our weekends. I already know that Mulder spends too much time in the office; he's called me from there a few too many times on a Saturday for it to be a casual stop by to pick up some files. I got after him not long ago about taking some personal time but it fell on deaf ears. 

Evidently at one time he _did_ have a personal life. Evidence of it showed up unexpectedly just the other day, in a very dramatic fashion. 

My first impression of Inspector Phoebe Green of Scotland Yard was not favorable. Her idea of good fun is trying to scare the living daylights out of former friends and anyone else who happens to be in his proximity. 

Mulder certainly took the prank seriously. He went white as the narrative unfolded on the tape, and we both jumped when Inspector Green tapped on his window. He still looked like a deer caught in the headlights as she greeted him rather intimately. 

_My_ fear, however, was replaced by anger almost immediately. I don't like being played for a fool and a joke like that isn't only irresponsible, it's dangerous. 

Inspector Green obviously didn't care. She barely acknowledged Mulder's introducing me and waved me off in a way that was as near as dammit to giving me the finger. 

I thought I heard her whisper "She hates me," to Mulder. That was probably also calculated. Her specialty seems to be throwing people off-balance. 

Back in the office, I managed to suppress my feelings while she related the supposed reason for her visit to Washington, totally ignoring me. She wandered around the office as she spoke, picking things up and putting them back again with the air that touching them had soiled her fingers. She made eye contact with Mulder, speaking only to him. I listened to the details of the case, and watched while she blew Mulder a kiss and me off as she left the office. 

Mulder stared after her in a daze. He hadn't seemed all that pleased to see her in the parking garage, but he offered to help her. It was like watching a moth drawn closer to an open flame. 

I did something I've seldom done in our partnership: I asked him some personal questions. He told me as little as possible, but what he said was enough. Despite his assertion that he was "over her," Phoebe still has some hold over him. He gave me some line about extending her a professional courtesy, and I just snapped. He seemed confused by my attitude, but didn't stay around to discuss it. He was too busy chasing after Phoebe. 

Of course I followed. I will not let myself be unsettled by Inspector Phoebe Green. It's bad enough that Mulder seems to be. 

XxXxX 

Phoebe Green is a bitch. There, I've admitted it, at least to myself. I can't stand her smug expression, her easy assumption of authority. She knows how I feel, too. 

She's told Mulder I don't like her. Good call, Ms. Inspector Green. Crack detective work. 

It's mutual, without a doubt. For some reason, she seems to see me as a threat to her. How am I a threat? Certainly not professionally. I'm not likely to suddenly apply to Scotland Yard, and she doesn't seem likely to renounce her British citizenship and come work for the FBI. 

She is simply, as we used to say in high school, a predatory female. She can't seem to stand anyone getting near someone she thinks of as hers. And she claims ownership of any male in her sphere, it seems. 

After I watched her wrap Agent Beatty around her finger in the Arson Lab, Mulder told me that my services would not be required for this case. Or, I was being let off the hook, as he called it. 

Why? Are Inspector Green's detective skills so much better than mine? Is it because it's her case and she doesn't want me on it? That seems likely, though Mulder's reason was Phoebe's tendency to play head games. I've only known her a day, and I'm already well aware of it. If she is half as good at detective work as she is at fucking with people's heads, I can see how she's become an Inspector. 

And Mulder is playing right into her hands. 

He spun me a story about a childhood trauma, which didn't quite ring true. I don't doubt he has a fear of fire, but the most shocking thing is that Phoebe knows it too and has exploited it in the past, and now looks to be exploiting it again. 

To what end? I can't see a reason except for the one I've already mentioned: she's a manipulative bitch. Mulder acknowledges that she's bad news, but seems to think it's his obligation to deal with her. "Phoebe _is_ fire," he tells me, and though he may fear it, he's also fascinated by it, and the same thing goes for Ms. Inspector Green. 

My "moth to a flame" analogy is truer than I realized at the time. 

XxXxX 

I didn't actually promise Mulder I'd stay out of the case, though I'm sure he's assumed that I'm honoring his wishes. But he left the casefile Phoebe brought on his desk and I started to read it. 

I've already made some notes on things that aren't in the file and I'm going to check them out. If it turns out that I'm covering old ground, at least it's good practice. I know very little about arson, and this is an opportunity. If Mulder hasn't looked into this already, I'll be saving him some time. 

XxXxXx 

I just called Mulder. He's in Boston, but he didn't say exactly why. He also didn't seem too enthusiastic when I proposed meeting him there to show him what I've found. He mumbled something about having his hands full, but didn't specify with what. 

He finally reluctantly agreed to meet me at the Venable Plaza. My first reaction was to remark that this is certainly a cut above the places we usually stay, but I kept that observation to myself. Since this case involves Lord and Lady Marsden, it's probably where they're staying, and... 

I'm not kidding anyone, least of all myself. I'm butting in where I'm obviously not wanted. But it isn't for personal reasons, and I have to remind myself of that. I was reluctant to leave this case to Mulder, and now I'm reluctant to get involved in it. But I believe the information I have is vital to the case. I'm sure of it. 

I don't know why Scotland Yard hadn't done some of this basic investigation already. The information wasn't that hard to find. Maybe Ms. Inspector Green isn't the crack investigator Mulder seems to think she is. 

That may be an uncalled-for remark, and I sure wouldn't make it to anyone else, least of all to Mulder. But sad to say, women who get ahead in a man's world are often suspected of getting there not by their hard work and intelligence, but because they slept around. I should know; I've been accused at least indirectly of similar things. 

I can't say any of these things to Mulder; for one thing, it's an unfounded accusation. For another, it just makes me look jealous when I have no reason to feel that way, or threatened professionally, which, ditto. 

Reading over this last paragraph, I have to ask myself: am I jealous? 

Maybe. Maybe I'm jealous of Phoebe's background, that's given her a sense of entitlement that must help when she's dealing with the old-boy network. 

Jealous of her relationship with Mulder? Not really. We are partners, I think on the way to being friends, but nothing more. I suspect that if I hadn't been assigned to him our paths would never have crossed. We don't have a lot of common ground outside the X Files. Perhaps I'm jealous only because she knows his past. He's given me the defining moment of his past, but I know so little about him otherwise. 

I have to think long and hard about this because it could impact our partnership. Regardless of the rumors (which, thanks to Tom Colton, have gotten a boost), we're partners and that's it. We _are_ friends, at least we're becoming friends, and that's good, because it can only increase the value of our working relationship. He's trusted me with some things, and I'm grateful for that. 

XxXxX 

Well, now I know what Mulder had his hands full of, and it wasn't strictly work. I have to say I was embarrassed and a little angry at being put in an awkward position when I found Mulder and Phoebe feeling each other up in a deserted anteroom. That sounds awful, but there really is no other description for it. I might have just turned around and left the files at the desk for him if the fire alarm hadn't gone off. 

Fortunately no one was seriously hurt. Mulder didn't exactly cover himself with glory, though he really did try. He was overcome by smoke in the hallway, and the rescue of the Marsden's children was made by someone else. 

I did feel sorry for him, gasping into the oxygen mask while Phoebe took charge of everything else, barely sparing a glance Mulder's way. I took charge of Mulder, taking him to his room -- definitely a cut above our usual motels -- and making sure he wasn't suffering further effects from smoke inhalation. He was barely able to walk. I got him to his room, got rid of his smoky clothes, and made him lie down and rest. 

And when he woke up, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where's Phoebe?" My sympathy turned to exasperation at that point. 

What's worse, Phoebe seems to have dropped him like a hot potato. When she came to check on him a while ago, she would barely meet his eyes. Does she think he disgraced her, or himself? Is he no longer worthy or her attention, or is it just that she achieved her aim by humiliating him? 

Mulder seemed curiously shy around her, when he'd been parading all over the room in nothing but his boxers before she got there. He's not generally so self-conscious. I may be angry with Mulder, but I want to strangle Phoebe. How dare she do this to him? 

Mulder at least had the grace to look a little chastened when I presented the evidence I'd found, but again, his first impulse was to "warn Phoebe." To be fair, she was with the family -- doing her job, for once -- and that meant she was where the suspect was likely to be. So here I sit by the fax machine, waiting for the sketch of our suspect to see if our suspicions are true. 

I'm still worried about Mulder. It would be just like him to do something rash because he feels he needs to prove himself. To Phoebe, or to himself, or maybe even to me. 

XxXxXx 

Inspector Phoebe Green has gone back to London, and if we're lucky, she'll never grace our shores again. 

I can honestly say that the case was resolved with very little help from her, though finally at the end she did something useful. I'm not usually so unfair, but it galls me to think that she may have saved my life, and Mulder's. 

Cecil L'ively is still alive, though I can't understand how. Mulder survived relatively unscathed, too, at least physically. 

Things happened very quickly once I got the fax and saw who the culprit was. I barely made it to Cape Cod in time. When I got there, Mulder seemed terribly subdued. He didn't want to talk about it, and I wondered if he and Phoebe had had some kind of lover's spat when he arrived unannounced. 

Shortly after that, all hell broke loose and there was no time for pettiness. Somehow, L'ively was able to set the whole house burning almost simultaneously. We suspect the accelerant was a kind of rocket fuel, as some was found in the garage. We got Lord and Lady Marsden out of the house, but the boys were still upstairs \-- trapped by Cecil L'ively. Mulder went after the boys and L'ively tried to escape. I got him in my sights as he came down the stairs. 

I'll never forget that moment of confrontation. His eyes were so intense, and they seemed to get darker and harder as I watched. I felt sweat trickle down my back and my finger tightened on the trigger. He told me that shooting him would cause a chain reaction and the whole house would explode, taking us all with it. He put enough doubt in my mind to make me hesitate. Could I take him down without exploding the house? Mulder and the boys were still upstairs; I couldn't take that chance. 

Then Phoebe came around the corner and threw something in his eyes. It could have been accelerant, it could have been Scotch for all I know, but it did the trick, and distracted him long enough for Mulder to get safely downstairs with the boys. Somehow, he was able to overcome his fears to rescue them, and this fire was much worse than the one in the hotel. 

And then we all watched in horror as Cecil L'ively burst into flames, laughing and cursing the whole time. 

He's still alive, in a hyperbaric chamber, under lock and key. There are people lining up to study him, but how they'll be able to keep him in custody is something no one has yet figured out. 

As for Mulder? As I said, at least physically he's suffered no ill effects. When I arrived at the office this morning, he was sitting at his desk, brooding. I could guess over what. Some mean little impulse overtook me and I said in my best British accent, "Care to take me to lunch?" 

Mulder looked up, startled, with much the same expression as when we listened to Phoebe's original tape. He told me she'd gone back to England, evidently without saying goodbye in person. He showed me the tape she'd sent to him. 

He said he hadn't listened to it, and implied that he wouldn't, but I notice he didn't throw it away, either. I do hope that he doesn't listen to it. 

I tried not to let my dislike of Phoebe show to Mulder, and I think I succeeded for the most part, though maybe only because Mulder didn't want to see it. But I don't like the way I was around her. She seemed to poison the atmosphere, and it was too easy for me to take it out on Mulder. Yes, I'm a little mad at him, and I really don't understand Phoebe's hold over him, but I don't want to make him feel bad about it. He so obviously feels bad enough on his own. I will not stoop to Phoebe's tactics; I will not play head games with Mulder. 

If I've learned anything about Mulder from this, it's served to remind me that he's much more sensitive than he lets on. That his emotions, once engaged, are not easily unengaged. He's not an easy man to get to know; he guards his emotions carefully. And I'm beginning to understand why he doesn't trust easily. He wants to believe, as his poster says; experience has taught him not to. 

To make it up to him, I took him to his favorite greasy spoon and let him order whatever he liked without criticism. It's an odd way to apologize, but one that Mulder understands. 

We are partners. We have each other's backs. 

end. 

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